


Though I'm Weak and Beaten Down

by MotherOfBeardedDragons



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Bingo, Fever, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Clint Barton, Illness, Matt Murdock is a Good Bro, Needles, Sickfic, Vomiting, clint has no sense of self preservation, frank castle is a hawkeye fan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 18:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherOfBeardedDragons/pseuds/MotherOfBeardedDragons
Summary: Clint Barton doesn't get sick. He definitely doesn't run fevers that leave him with body aches, shivering and curled up around his dog for warmth. Matt Murdock doesn't expect to spend his night trying to take care of a very sick Clint, with the unlikely help of Frank Castle, but here they are. AKA a Hawkeye sickfic in which Clint has the flu and Matt and Frank try to keep him alive.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the bingo square "huddling for warmth." I just pictured Clint cuddling with Lucky for warmth and this fic sprung up from there. 
> 
> Mild warnings for language, needles, and vomiting. But nothing too graphic. 
> 
> Title is from the song "Goner" by Twenty One Pilots.

    Clint knew he was sick, and not only that but he knew it was more than just a cold. But denial had always been one of his strongest traits and he was determined to keep going in ignorant bliss until this inevitably knocked him on his ass. It was the way he did things. 

   At first he  _ had _ thought it was just a cold, an inconvenience sure, but nothing that would get in his way. He’d had some congestion and coughing, but he had figured if he carried around some tissues and cough drops he’d be fine. But as his temperature kept steadily climbing, his muscles began to ache, and his stomach started hurting he had realized that it was not just a cold.  

   He knew he should have gotten a flu shot, and he had meant to, but he had been busy and he hated medical. Plus Steve and Tony being on his ass about getting one made him want to resist due to his innate stubbornness. He figured he’d never gotten the flu before despite rarely ever getting a flu shot, plus Natasha had gotten a flu shot last year and had gotten the flu anyway. He was currently regretting his decision.

   He knew exactly how he got infected too. They had responded to a threat at a hospital emergency room a few days ago and he had been crammed in a small room guarding a bunch of coughing, sneezing, germy sick people. 

   “I should’ve just let them blow up the hospital,” Clint muttered as he crawled across the floor towards the couch. 

   He had gotten up to get more coffee and had been hit by a wave of vertigo. He had sat down hard on the floor to prevent falling over, so not only was he hot, congested, nauseous, and dizzy, but his hip hurt like a bitch.

   After what felt like hours he managed to drag himself up onto the couch and collapse. 

   He had thrown his sweaty shirt off across the room at some point. He wasn’t sure exactly how high his temperature was, he didn’t own a thermometer despite having a huge first aid kit, but he didn’t think it was life threatening. 

   Lucky lay on the floor next to the couch, licking his hand. Clint smiled slightly in spite of his discomfort. Natasha was out of town on a mission, not that he’d call her even if she was in town. He had always dealt with being sick on his own, and this time would be no different. He closed his eyes and fell into a fitful sleep. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Matt skillfully jumped from one roof onto the next pausing only to listen to the alley below. Silence. He kept moving. 

   He had been on patrol for a couple of hours now, and it had been fortunately uneventful. He had stopped a couple of muggings and helped a woman who had OD’d. Once the ambulance had carried the woman away and Matt knew she was stable he had taken to the rooftops. 

   He had one more stop on his way home, it had become a habit by now. Instead of living in Avengers Tower, Clint had chosen to live in a small apartment not too far from Matt’s. He always went by on his way home when he patrolled just to make sure things were ok. 

   Natasha knew about this habit of his and had pulled him aside before leaving for her mission a couple days ago...

   “I know you go by Clint’s apartment on the end of your patrols,” Natasha said.

   “How could you possibly know that?,” Matt replied in surprise. He considered himself pretty stealthy and was always extra vigilant on patrol. 

   Natasha just raised an amused eyebrow. Right, she was a super spy and assassin. 

   “Does Clint know?,” Matt asked. He would feel kind of stupid if Clint knew he cruised by his apartment every other night. 

   “I don’t think so,” Natasha replied. 

   “Well, that’s good I guess,” Matt said awkwardly. 

   He wondered if Natasha was going to ask him to stop or remind him that Clint could more than take care of himself. Hell, he was the blind guy, if anyone needed to be checked on it was probably him. Matt shook his head and tried to push away the bitter thoughts. 

   He had only recently revealed his identity to the Avengers, and while he wasn’t an official member of the team he attended meetings and joined them on the occasional mission. 

   “I’m getting ready to go on a mission for a couple of weeks. I wanted you to keep an eye on Clint,” Natasha said, surprising Matt. 

   Natasha sighed. “He’s stubborn and I know he won’t ask for help.”

   Matt racked his brain for what Natasha could be referencing and then it hit him. Clint had been congested during the meeting and had a low fever. But he had seemed overall pretty ok.   

   “I’ll make sure to stop by a few times,” Matt replied. 

   “Clint isn’t the best at taking care of himself on a good day. You only need to intervene if it gets bad, otherwise he’ll just push you away. Wait until he’s too defenseless to fight back if you do step in,” Natasha explained. 

   “Got it.” 

   “He should be fine. He eats things off the floor all the time so I’m sure his immune system is impenetrable at this point.”

   Matt laughed. 

   “No, you think I’m joking,” Natasha continued, “but one time I watched him wrestle with Lucky over a piece of pizza that had fallen on the floor. It had lint and hair all over it, and Clint ended up splitting it with his dog.”

   “Wow.”

   The conversation definitely hadn’t gone in any direction that Matt had thought it would. 

   So that’s how he found himself on the roof of Clint’s apartment building, listening. And from what he heard he knew it was a good thing he had come. He sighed, climbing down the fire escape, and made his way to Clint’s window. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Clint woke up with violent shaking. At first he thought maybe his temperature had gotten too high and he was having a seizure. He thought that only really happened with kids, but it would be just his luck. Then he realized he wasn’t having a seizure, he was just really fucking cold.

   As his body shivered he really regretted throwing his shirt across the room. He groped around for a blanket and cursed when he realized it was in the dirty clothes hamper because he had spilled coffee all over it. 

   Pretty much everything he owned was coated in a layer of spilled coffee, so he was used to it. But Natasha had taken the coffee covered blanket and chucked it into his clothes hamper after it had sat on the couch several days. So he lay there freezing his ass off, too dizzy and weak to get a blanket or move. 

   He’d had hypothermia before and wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. Except he knew his temperature was actually really high right now and not really cold, and damn his brain wasn’t wanting to work right now. And there was a freaking bird or something tapping on the window. Didn’t it know his head felt like it was going to explode? 

   He groaned in frustration, waking Lucky up. Lucky looked at him nervously, licked his hand, then jumped up on the couch beside him. He settled in half beside and half on top of Clint. Clint felt the warmth radiating off of Lucky and sighed in relief. Lucky felt like a little furry furnace and it was awesome. He snuggle in closer to Lucky, careful not to squish him. Lucky licked his arm in comfort then laid his head down in Clint’s chest. 

   As his shivering began to decrease thanks to Lucky’s warmth, Clint counted Lucky’s breaths as he felt his chest rise and fall. Anything to take his mind off the sheer agony that was his body. 

   He had been poisoned before, but damn this was worse. He was cold and hot at the same time, his muscles were tense and firey, his heart rate was high, he felt like he  couldn’t breathe, his head was pounding, and his stomach was nauseous. He was dizzy and too tired to move. Someone could just bust into his apartment and he wouldn’t be able to do anything. 

   Just at that moment someone busted into his apartment. Clint sighed, cursing, and opened one eye. He sighed again in relief when he saw it was Matt. 

   Wait, he shouldn’t be relieved. Well, he should be relieved it wasn’t a murderer, but he didn’t want Matt to see him like this. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. He was half-naked and shivering, clutching his dog for warmth. His nose was running and he was sure his face was flushed. 

   “I was on patrol and heard you in here, thought I’d see if you were ok,” Matt said casually. “I couldn’t come in the front door because I’m in the suit, so I tried knocking on the window, but you didn’t answer. 

   “Thought it was a bird,” Clint replied sluggishly. 

   “You get a lot of birds knocking on your window?,” Matt replied, raising an eyebrow. 

   “Not usually. I’m glad you’re not a murderer,” Clint mumbled. 

   “Clint, how high’s your fever?,” Matt asked, concerned. 

   “Dunno. Don’t have a thermometer,” Clint replied shivering. 

   Matt laid a hand on Clint’s forehead. He could get a general idea with his senses, it didn’t seem like it was dangerously high yet, but he’d like concrete numbers.

   Matt debated getting him a blanket, but he didn’t want to make him hotter. Plus Lucky seemed to be giving him some comfort. He wagged his tail and licked Matt’s hand as he pulled it away from Clint. 

   “Do you have a first aid kit?,” Matt asked. 

   Clint nodded. “Under the sink.”

   Matt found the sink by the smell of metal and pipes, and opened the cabinet door. He shoved aside several pizza boxes to find a bigass duffel bag. He spent several moments digging through it. 

   “Is this an amputation saw?,” Matt asked, holding up what seemed to be a large saw in a protective sheath.  

   “Field surgery kit,” Clint said with a shrug. 

   “So you have a bone saw and an IV kit and who knows what else in here, but no thermometer?,” Matt said in slight exasperation. 

   “I never get sick,” Clint said, missing the irony of his statement in his delirium. 

   Well, Matt couldn’t see a thermometer reading anyway, and Clint probably couldn’t see straight enough to read it right now. Matt had a first aid kit at home that had a thermometer with audible readouts. Plus he had ice packs and some medication that might help. 

   He didn’t want to leave Clint alone, but he could be to his apartment and back in fifteen minutes. Plus he could change out of the suit. 

   “Clint, I’m going to go to my apartment to get a few things, I’ll be back soon ok,” Matt said, turning around.

   Clint was asleep. Matt decided to let him rest, and climbed out the window, intent on getting to his apartment and back as quickly as possible. 

   He moved swiftly towards his apartment and pulled out his phone, dialing Natasha. She had given him her phone number after their conversation. 

   “How is he?,” Natasha asked. She knew Matt would only call her if Clint was sick. 

   “He’s got a pretty high fever, I’m going to my apartment right now to get some supplies,” Matt replied, climbing down a fire escape. 

   “I’m on my way back home right now. I’ll be there in about six hours,” Natasha said. 

   Matt was slightly relieved, he just had to keep Clint alive until then. He didn’t mind helping Clint at all, it was just that he didn’t have a lot of experience taking care of anyone. Foggy’s hangovers in college were about the extent of his caretaking. Usually he was the one getting his ass kicked. 

   “See how high his temperature is and call me back,” Natasha stated, interrupting Matt’s thoughts. 

   “Ok, I’m at my apartment now, so I should be back there in ten minutes,” 

   “Keep me posted. Good luck,” Natasha said hanging up. 

   Matt quickly removed his suit and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. He put on his glasses and rummaged around for the first aid kit. He added in a few medicines from his bathroom and went back out into the living room. He was about to leave when he heard a sound behind him.

   “I know you’re the one who busted up the drug den behind the warehouse and sent their asses to jail,” a deep voice said. 

   “Not now Frank,” Matt said, groaning. He had been so busy getting things together he had somehow missed Frank’s presence. 

   “I told you they were mine to kill Red, I needed to make them pay. But you had to go out on one of your fucking crusades and…”

   “Dammit Frank now isn’t the time,” Matt yelled. He had to stop this before it turned into a fight. 

   “And  _ why _ is now not a good time for us to talk about how you screwed me over?,” Frank asked, clenching his teeth. 

   Matt could tell it took all of Frank’s self-control to not launch himself at him. But Matt knew that Frank was good at reading people and must have picked up on his slight panic. That was probably the reason why they weren’t having a brawl in his living room right now. 

   “A friend of mine, he’s really sick. I came by to get a first aid kit, I need to get back to his apartment. We can talk about this later, fight, whatever. But right now I need to get back to Clint,” Matt said, almost pleading. 

   “Clint Barton?”

   “Yes.”

   “Hawkeye,” Frank said with a note of respect.

   While he didn’t get the whole bow and arrow thing, Frank knew the guy could shoot. He’d seen him in action and for someone to impress him with their shooting you they had to be pretty damn good. 

   “What’s wrong with him?,” Frank asked. 

   “I think it’s the flu. He has a high fever and he’s pretty delirious right now,” Matt explained. 

   “You gonna take him to a hospital?,” Frank asked.

   “I don’t think he’ll go to one, he’s too stubborn.”

   Frank snorted. “That’s rich coming from you Red.”

   Matt rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

   “What about your nurse friend?”

   “Claire’s been working a lot of overtime. She needs her rest. I don’t want to drag her into this unless it’s an emergency,” Matt explained, heading towards the door. 

   “Well, let’s go then,” Frank said, walking up behind him. 

   “The hell does that mean?”

   “I’m coming with you. I’m a marine, I have medical training. And one of my closest friends is a medic,” Frank explained. 

   “I don’t know....”

   “You ever treated anyone for dysentery? Malaria? I have. I know how to treat fevers, dehydration, hell even breathing problems if it gets that bad.”

   Frank did have a point (now there was a sentence Matt never imagined he would think). Frank had experience helping people through terrible illnesses so helping  someone with the flu should be no problem for him, whereas Matt had little to no healthcare experience. 

   “Fine,” Matt said after a minute. 

   “We’ll deal with our shit later, let’s help your friend.” 

   This was going to be a long freaking night. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Clint drifted in and out of consciousness. 

   He dreamt he was on a mission in Russia, deep in the snow. He was freezing. As shivers wracked his body, he wandered around the dark woods, knowing he was being followed by a pair of assassins. He jumped when felt something behind him, reaching for his weapon. 

   Clint sat up in panic and confusion, getting hit with a wave of pain and dizziness. Lucky, startled, jumped off the couch and stood looking at Clint in concern. 

   Clint slumped over, groaning. He slowly rolled off the couch, landing with a thump. He hissed in pain, it was the same side he had fallen on earlier. Lucky wined and curled up next to him. Clint leaned into the warmth and willed himself to fall back asleep, if only to escape the pain and suffering for a little while. 

   He was dozing restlessly when he heard the window open and two sets of feet enter the apartment. So the Russian assassins had found him. 

   Clint lay awaiting his inevitable death, too exhausted to move. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Frank’s first thought was that Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, looked a lot younger than he thought he would. Frank had always seen him from a distance, and given his skill level he had imagined him looking older and grizzled. 

   Of course, Barton might appear younger right now because he was sleeping curled around a dog, his blonde hair sticking out at different angles. Most people looked younger and more peaceful when they slept, even though right now Barton looked like he was in pain and was sleeping fitfully. The dog looked up at them, wagging his tail. Frank patted him on the head. 

   Matt had already opened the first aid kit and pulled out a thermometer. 

   “We need to wake him up,” Matt said regretfully. He knew Clint needed rest, but they needed to see exactly how high his fever was. 

   Frank nodded and carefully unwrapped Clint from around the dog. “Sorry buddy, need you to move,” Frank said when the dog whined. 

   “His name’s Lucky,” Matt supplied, smiling slightly. He still found it amusing that the Punisher was a big dog lover. 

   “Alright Lucky, we need to take a look at your friend,” Frank continued, finally moving Lucky to the side and carefully  propping Clint up, who groaned slightly. 

   Frank continued to pet Lucky while Matt gently tried to wake Clint up. 

   “Clint, we need you to wake up for a minute. It’s Matt.”

   Matt was relieved when Clint blearily opened his eyes. He wasn’t entirely focused, but he didn’t freak out so that meant he knew where he was at least. 

   “What’s goin’ on?,” Clint mumbled. “Who’s that?”

   “You’re sick. Remember I stopped by earlier?”

   “Thought I was dreaming.”

   “No. I stopped by then went home to get my first aid kit. This is Frank, he has some medical training and decided to come along,” Matt explained patiently, excluding the part where Frank broke into his damn apartment. Again. 

   “Right. Is it snowing?,” Clint asked.

   “No,” Matt replied confused. 

   “Must’ve been dreaming,” Clint said, remembering the forest and assassins chasing him. He slowly closed his eyes.

   “I need you to stay awake for a minute. We need to see how high your fever is,” Matt said, gently shaking Clint. He gestured to Frank, who was holding the thermometer. 

   “What? Oh. Ok.” Clint opened his mouth for Frank to stick the thermometer under his tongue. 

   Matt knew he must be really sick if he wasn’t putting up a fight. Clint was notorious for hating anything to do with medical. 

   Clint began to doze slightly, and finally a moment later the thermometer beeped, causing him to open his eyes. 

   “One hundred and four degrees fahrenheit,” the thermometer read out. 

   “Damn,” Frank muttered, setting the thermometer aside. 

   “Should we take him to a hospital?,” Matt said with concern. 

   “Let’s see if we can get it down. But if it goes up or won’t come down any, then yes,” Frank stated.

   “No hospitals,” Clint said, opening his eyes in a slight panic. 

   “We won’t bring you to a hospital unless the fever goes up. But we need you to cooperate with us,” Matt explained. 

   Clint sighed and nodded.

   “What should we do?,” Matt asked Frank. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was kind of glad he came along. 

   “We need to get him in a cool bath. I’m hoping he has a tub,” Frank said. 

   “He does. He’s talked about giving Lucky baths,” Matt replied. 

   At the mention of the “b” word Lucky looked up at them skeptically. 

   Clint curled up next to Lucky again, trying to doze off. He felt so damn tired and miserable, sleep was really the only kind of relief he could get and even it was uncomfortable. 

   “Ok, I’ll go run some water,” Frank said, exiting the room on a mission. 

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Frank continue to look after Clint and he slowly begins to recover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings apply.

   Matt pulled out his phone to update Natasha. 

   “How is he?,” Natasha immediately asked. 

   “His fever is one hundred and four, he’s pretty out of it but not in the danger zone yet. We’re going to try a cool bath to see if we can get it down,” Matt replied. 

   “We?”

   Shit. He hadn’t wanted to mention Frank, but he knew there was no use lying to Natasha. Matt was just so tired from being out on patrol he wasn’t thinking straight. 

   “Frank wanted to help. He has medical training.”

   “Frank. Frank Castle?,” Natasha said, unimpressed. 

   “Yeah.”

   “You thought it would be a good idea for the Punisher to come help take care of Clint?.”

   Fortunately Natasha didn’t sound angry, just skeptical and slightly confused. 

   “He was in my apartment and volunteered himself to help. He does have medical training,” Matt pointed out. 

   “What was the Punisher doing in your apartment?”

   Matt sighed. “He breaks in from time to time.”

   It was Natasha’s turn to sigh. “Look, just make sure Clint’s temperature doesn’t get any higher and make sure he’s hydrated. I’m assuming Frank can start an IV if he needs to.”

   “I think so. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Clint. I’m pretty sure Frank’s a big Hawkeye fan, that’s probably why he volunteered himself when he found out Clint was sick,” Matt pointed out. 

   “Well, tell the fanboy he’d better take good care of Clint.” Matt could tell Natasha smiling slightly.

   “I’ll be sure to do that,” Matt replied, smirking. 

   Matt ended his call with Natasha and checked on Clint. He was still dozing, but Matt could tell by his heartbeat that he wasn’t sleeping deeply and seemed like he was in pain. Matt hoped if they got his fever down he might be able to rest. 

   “Bath’s ready,” Frank announced as he entered the room.

   “Clint, we need get your fever down,” Matt said, gently shaking Clint. 

   “What?,” Clint said blearily, opening his eyes. 

   “Your fever’s too high, we need to try to get it down,” Matt said. 

   Clint rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. 

   “Frank, I think his fever’s gone up,” Matt said, noticing that Clint felt warmer. 

   Frank grabbed the thermometer. “Barton, I need you to open up your mouth.”

   Clint slowly opened his mouth enough for Frank to get the thermometer under his tongue. His eyes were half-closed and was leaning heavily on the couch. 

   “Shit, it’s gone up some. It’s probably a combination of the fever and dehydration that’s got him out of it,” Frank cursed when the thermometer finished reading.

   “Let’s get him in the tub,” Matt said with concern. 

   The two of them managed to pull Clint up off the couch, who groaned slightly. Thankfully he was able to walk down the hall with them supporting most of his weight. They made it to the bathroom and Matt and Frank carefully deposited him on the edge of the tub. 

   “Alright, we need to strip him down to his boxers,” Frank said, working Clint’s shirt over his head. 

   “What’r you doing?,” Clint asked. 

   “We need to get you in the tub, get your fever down. Can’t do that with a bunch of clothes on,” Frank replied.

   Clint groaned, either in pain or embarrassment or both, but helped them slip off his sweatpants.

   The two of them carefully lowered Clint into the tub. Clint gasped when he hit the water, even though it was room temperature. It felt freezing on his overheated skin. 

   “Easy, we’ve got you,” Frank said as he leaned Clint back to where his head was well out of the water. 

   “It’s cold,” Clint said, starting to shiver again. 

   Frank cursed when Clint looked at him with sad puppy dog eyes. 

   “I know it feels cold. Trust me, you’ll feel better when we get this fever down,” Frank said, absentmindedly brushing a strand of hair off Clint’s forehead. 

   Clint sighed and closed his eyes, trying to will his body to relax. He just felt so fucking miserable. He seriously felt like he might be dying and at this point it would be ok. 

   “You’re not dying, we’ll make sure of that,” Matt said with sympathy. 

   “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Clint muttered. 

   Lucky shoved himself between Matt and Frank and stuck his head down in the tub, drinking some of the water. 

   “That’s pretty gross,” Matt stated. 

   “Dogs,” Frank said with a shrug. 

   Clint laid a shaky hand on Lucky’s had, scratching his ears. The four sat in silence for a while.  

   “It’s been about five minutes, let’s see how you’re doing,” Frank eventually said, sliding the thermometer under Clint’s tongue. 

   They checked Clint’s temperature every five minutes, and after almost an hour it had finally dropped some. Clint was feeling a little more lucid, although still really shitty. He had finally stopped shivering. 

   “Alright, it’s time to get you out,” Frank said. 

   He and Matt had some towels ready. They scooted Lucky out of the way and both grabbed hold of Clint, pulling him up. They supported his weight as he stepped over the edge of the tub onto shaky legs. 

   Clint closed his eyes against the dizziness and felt his heart rate pick up. 

   “Wait,” Clint said, slightly panicked. 

   “What is it?,” Frank asked. 

   “He’s about to be sick,” Matt said, picking up on the signs with his senses. 

   He had attended many college parties and had learned what someone about to throw up sounded like to his senses.

   The two of them carefully knelt Clint in front of the toilet as he started gagging. He choked up mostly stomach bile and painfully dry heaved for a few moments before sitting back shakily. 

   “How are you doing?,” Matt asked, concerned. 

   “Not great,” Clint said in frustration. 

   He was embarrassed to be fighting back tears. He was half naked and about to cry in front of the Punisher and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen all because he was sick.

   “Hey, I know you’ve got to be miserable. We’ve got the fever down some, we just need to get you hydrated and you should start feeling better,” Frank said. 

   “Yeah, ok,’ Clint sighed, feeling some tears fall but not really caring. 

   Clint was no stranger to pain, he had been injured and even tortured over the years. But this was agony. His body felt like it was on fire, things were spinning, his heart was racing, he felt nauseous, his head was pounding. Everything was agony. 

   Matt and Frank helped him dry off, turning around to give him some privacy as he shakily changed out of his wet boxers into the clothes Frank had brought in. Matt and Frank helped him get settled onto the couch, a trash can nearby in case he got sick again. 

   Frank checked his temperature again, glad that it was holding. As soon as he pulled the thermometer out of Clint’s mouth he leaned over the side of the couch, retching into the trash can. After dry heaving and not bringing anything up, he collapsed back. 

   “You’re dehydrated. I’m going to start an IV to get some fluids in you,” Frank said, digging through the medical kit. 

   Matt had noted the multiple coffee cups lying around. “Have you had anything to drink other than coffee?”

   “Coffee’s made out of water,” Clint pointed out weakly.  

   “Not really the same thing,” Matt said, smiling slightly. Natasha had been right when she had said Clint was terrible at taking care of himself when he was sick.

   “Alright, let’s do this,” Frank said, setting the needed supplies for an IV on the coffee table. 

   Matt gently pulled Lucky to the side when he tried to paw at the various medical supplies, wanting to play. 

   Frank tied a tourniquet around Clint’s upper arm, feeling for a vein. It was hard since he was so dehydrated, but Frank found one that seemed decent. He wiped down the area with alcohol and grabbed the needle. 

   “Alright, I need you to keep breathing and hold as still as possible,” Frank said. 

   “I’ve had IV’s before,” Clint muttered, closing his eyes. Just because he’d had them before didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. 

   “I’ll count down,” Frank said, ignoring Clint’s grumbling, “One, two three.”

   Frank slid the needle into the vein, causing Clint to flinch and hiss in pain. Frank cursed as he realized the needle wasn’t going in. 

   “Try to take some deep breaths,” Frank suggested, noticing that Clint was holding his breath. 

   Matt, sensing Clint’s raised heart rate and pain responses, had put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

   “Fuck,” Frank muttered after a moment. He had tried moving the needle slightly, but he could tell each adjustment was hurting Clint, who had his eyes shut tightly and was gripping the couch in pain. 

   As much as he hated to stick Clint again, he decided to pull the needle out and try again in another vein. It had been a while since he had started an IV, he knew he was  out of practice, plus Clint was really dehydrated. But he was still frustrated at himself for failing. 

   “Sorry kid,” Frank said, taping gauze over the spot. 

   “It’s fine,” Clint replied breathlessly. “I know I’m dehydrated.” 

   He really dreaded the thought of Frank trying again, that last attempt hurt like a bitch, but he knew it wasn’t Frank’s fault and it was necessary. In his pain filled state he hadn’t noticed Matt lightly rubbing his shoulder, but the warm gesture felt comforting and he relaxed slightly. 

   Frank and Matt helped Clint flip to the other end of the couch so Frank could have access to his other arm. Frank once again tied a tourniquet around Clint’s arm and Clint found himself tensing up despite his attempts to relax. 

   “I’m going to get it this time,” Frank said with determination. 

   Clint took a deep breath as Frank counted down and groaned slightly at the sharp sting. He took deep breaths as Frank carefully eased the needle in, and sighed in relief when he got it fully in place. 

   Frank sighed gratefully that he got it this time and undid the tourniquet. He set about flushing the IV with saline and taping it into place. 

   Lucky, who had been watching with concern the whole time, nudged Matt out of the way and laid a head on Clint’s stomach. 

   “It’s ok buddy,” Clint said as he tiredly stroked Lucky’s soft fur. 

   Matt helped Frank by handing him supplies and Clint watched as Frank hooked up a bag of fluids to the IV and hung it from a nearby lamp.

   “This will help with the pain and nausea,” Frank said, carefully measuring out medication and injecting it into the port on the IV. 

   Clint nodded, and found himself drifting off to sleep again. It was frustrating, and honestly a little anxiety inducing, that he had no control over staying awake and was so out of it. Clint struggled to keep his eyes open. 

   “Let’s see how the fever is doing before you drift off,” Frank said, noticing Clint’s fatigue. 

   After checking his temperature Frank was relieved to see that Clint’s fever had gone down a little. He knew the fluids would help it go down more. Clint was now sleeping with Lucky curled up practically on top of him. Frank hoped that with fluids and rest Clint would recover pretty quickly. 

   Frank began to gather up some of the supplies strewn about and started straightening things up. Matt helped him. 

   “We’ll probably need to go to the store, I don’t think he has anything to eat other than stale pizza,” Matt said. 

   He had brought plenty of medical supplies like tissues, cough drops, and medicine, but hadn’t thought to bring food. He hoped Clint would feel up to eating something soon. 

   “I’m not surprised,” Frank said.

   He never thought anyone would match Murdock when it came to having a lack of self preservation, but Clint was doing a pretty damn good job rivaling him.

   “I did want to say thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you,” Matt admitted after a moment. 

   His senses helped him a lot, and allowed him to live a pretty normal life in a lot of ways. But he was still blind and had limitations on what he could do when it came to certain things. He could do stitches, but finding a vein and starting an IV would be damn near impossible for him. 

   Frank shrugged. “We snipers gotta look out for each other.”

   Matt smiled. Frank was definitely a Hawkeye fanboy. 

   “Don’t think this means we’re ok. I’m still pissed about the drug den,” Frank added. 

   Matt sighed. “I’m well aware Frank.”

   The two worked in silence, cleaning up and disinfecting the apartment. Frank went to the nearby store while Matt called Natasha to update her. 

   “How is he?,” she asked immediately. 

   “Better. We got his fever lowered some and Frank started the IV and gave him some medication. He’s sleeping right now.”

   “Good. Hopefully the worst is behind him.”

   “I hope so. He was in pretty bad shape when he got here,” Matt replied. 

   “Clint’s never been great at looking after himself. Especially when he’s sick.”

   “Yeah, I noticed.”

   “I should be home in a few hours,” Natasha added.

   Matt could tell she was anxious to get home and check on Clint herself. The two talked for a little longer, with Matt promising to call her again in an hour with an update. 

   Frank returned with some Gatorade and light foods that would be easy on Clint’s stomach when he felt like eating. He put everything away and made a pot of coffee, eventually joining Matt in the living room. The two sat watching Clint rest beside Lucky, waiting until he woke up to see how he was doing. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Several hours later Clint woke up, feeling disoriented. The pain hit him as he awoke, but he was glad to find it was nowhere near as brutal as it had been. He didn’t feel like his body was freezing and burning, and his nausea had calmed down some. 

   He opened his eyes slowly to find Matt and Frank sitting at the nearby table talking quietly. So he hadn’t hallucinated that. He thought the Punisher and Devil of Hell’s Kitchen showing up and working together to help take care of him had to be a fever dream. 

   So that meant they had both seen him half naked, wet, and a physical and emotional wreck. Lovely. 

   Lucky, seeing that he was awake, immediately got in his face and started licking him, wagging his tail. Clint couldn’t help but smile. 

   Frank and Matt looked up. 

   “How are you doing?,” Matt asked, although he could already tell Clint was doing a little better. His heart rate was down, his body temperature seemed lower, and he wasn’t shivering. 

   “Not great, but better than before. I don’t feel like I’m dying now at least.”

   “You look less like you’re dying now,” Frank said. 

   “Gee thanks,” Clint said, groaning slightly as he carefully sat up. 

   “Do you feel up to eating something?,” Matt asked. 

   “Ummm. Not really, but I know I need to try.”

   “We got some crackers, maybe start out with those,” Matt suggested. 

   Clint nodded and Matt went into the kitchen. Frank came over and checked Clint’s temperature, relieved to find that it was now a low grade fever. He unhooked the empty bag, but decided to leave the IV in for now.

   About thirty minutes later they heard someone at the front door. Matt and Frank tensed up, ready to fight, but were relieved when Natasha came through the door, dropping her key on a nearby table. 

   She found Clint sleeping on the couch, an empty packet of crackers and bottle of gatorade on the table next to him. She carefully lay a hand on his forehead, relieved when it was just warm and not burning hot. Clint looked sick, but not nearly as bad as she had been preparing herself for. She turned and faced Matt and Frank. 

   “You did good,” she said with a decisive nod. 

   “I’m glad,” Frank said, nodding in return. 

   Matt smirked at the effect Natasha’s intensity had on Frank, forcing him to be on his best behavior. They both knew that it was bad to be on Natasha’s bad side, but especially so if it involved Clint. 

   The two of them filled Natasha in on what had happened and then left Clint in her care. Matt was surprised to find himself reluctant to leave, he wanted to watch and make sure Clint was ok. Of course logically he knew Clint would be ok, he seemed to be through the worst of it, and he knew Natasha was one of the best people to look after him. But it felt weird walking away after all they had been through. Maybe it was just Matt’s exhaustion talking. 

   “He’s strong. He’s gonna be fine,” Frank said, as if reading Matt’s thoughts. 

   Yeah, it was pretty bad when even Frank Castle sensed your twisting emotions and felt obligated to offer comfort. 

   “I know. Natasha said she’ll keep me updated,” Matt replied. 

   They were almost at Matt’s apartment. 

   “ _ He’s _ gonna be fine. Now you on the other hand…” 

   Matt barely had time to dodge Frank’s punch. It ended up hitting him in the shoulder causing him to stagger back. 

   “Seriously?! Now?!”

   “I told you to stay away from the drug den. I had a score to settle, and what do you fucking do? Go and hand them over to the police,” Frank ranted. 

   Matt pushed himself off a wall as Frank lunged. Thank fuck Frank didn’t have a knife or gun on him at the moment. Surprisingly. 

   “Dammit Frank, it’s been a long day,” Matt sighed. 

   He lunged and kicked low, attempting to knock Frank’s feet out from under him. Frank jumped, using the momentum to knock Matt to the ground. 

   “Listen here Red. I could kick your ass right now...” Frank began. 

   Matt knew this was true. He had been awake almost twenty hours, had been patrolling, plus everything with Clint, he was exhausted. He kind of hoped Frank would knock him out at this point. 

   “...but I’m not going to. This time. Those assholes will be out of jail in a few days. You keep out of my way,” Frank threatened. 

   Matt attempted to headbutt Frank, but he was too slow and Frank managed to pull himself back. 

   “I’m not letting you murder them Frank.”

   “It’s not murder if they deserve it.”

   The two tussled in the alley a while longer, no one seriously hurting the other, as they bitched at each other about their various crime-fighting methods. The two finally stepped back, breathing hard, and glared at each other. 

   “I mean it Red. Stay away,” Frank grumbled, turning to talk away. “And let me know how Barton is.”

   Matt sighed and slowly climbed the stairs to his apartment. He never would have guessed how weird his life would turn out. Patrolling the streets at night as a vigilante, making medical house calls for sick Avengers with a known killer, getting in almost neighborly fights with said killer in back alleys. He seriously needed some sleep. 

   Matt sighed in relief when, an hour later, he finally curled up in bed. He heard his phone ding, and listened to a text from Natasha saying Clint’s fever had gone down more and he was resting. He smiled and finally let himself drift off to sleep. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Clint groaned, opening his eyes against the sun streaming in. He petted Lucky, who was laying on the pillow next to him, drooling. Natasha had helped him into bed at some point after Matt and Frank had left. He still felt really shitty, but not like he was dying. 

   “I thought I heard you moaning,” Natasha said, entering the room. 

   Lucky wagged his tail at her approach and she scratched behind his ears. 

   “Yeah. I’ve had better days.”

   “But better than yesterday?”

   “Yeah, better than yesterday,” Clint finally conceded. “Was the Punisher here or was I tripping balls?”

   “The Punisher was here. Matt found you and Frank insisted on tagging along.”

   “Since when does Matt hang out with the Punisher?”

   “Since the Punisher keeps breaking into his apartment,” Natasha replied. 

   “Everyone needs a hobby I guess,” Clint said, slowly sitting up. 

   “I told you to text me if you started feeling bad. I didn’t have to go on this mission.”

   “It came on pretty quick. I didn’t think things were gonna get that bad.”

   “That’s because you’re incapable of taking it easy and taking care of yourself,” Natasha replied. 

   She should have known Clint would drive himself to exhaustion and make himself sick. That’s why she had been hesitant to go on the mission and had asked Matt to keep an eye on things. 

   “Well, I appreciate the help. Even if it was humiliating.”

   Clint sighed. He had thrown up and cried in front of two hardened vigilantes. 

   “You’re a dumbass. We’ve seen each other at our worst right?,” Natasha challenged. 

   Clint nodded. 

   “Well, I don’t think any less of you for it and I know you don’t think less of me. We all have our weak points. We just have to have each others backs,” Natasha said. 

   “Yeah, well it sucks.”

   “It does.”

   Natasha knew Clint, like her, hated being sick or injured. Hated that feeling of helplessness and uselessness that came long with it. 

   Natasha helped Clint up and out to the living room. She made some tea and toast (ignoring Clint’s pleas for coffee) and updated Matt on how Clint was doing.

   Clint found himself drifting off to sleep again, still tired from his ordeal, but grateful for his friend’s help. He couldn’t have imagined being alone in his apartment, freezing and feverish and sick, all alone. He petted Lucky’s warm fur and vowed to come up with a way to thank them when he got through all this. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Two weeks later, a gathering took place in Clint’s apartment. It looked like other such gatherings happening all around the city: friends casually sharing pizza and beer in a shabby apartment. 

   However this gathering consisted of two spies and two vigilantes. And they were celebrating the unspoken bond that held them together: have each other’s backs but for fuck’s sake don’t talk about emotions and make it weird. 

   “A toast,” Clint began, holding up his beer, “to friends.”

   “To friends,” everyone echoed, clinking glasses. 

   It was a word none of them used frequently and one they didn’t take for granted. They all knew what it was like to be truly alone and therefore appreciated support more than the average person. 

   So they ate pizza, drank beer, and laughed at Lucky’s antics. And Clint knew he was fortunate to be surrounded by the people in the room, not matter how messed up or how weird their lives were. He wasn’t alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't originally planned for frank to be in this, but he just barged in so I went with it. 
> 
> I don't have any medical knowledge, so this might not be perfect, but I tried. 
> 
> I'm going to strive for something happy and not-whumpy for my next square. Because I'm capable of writing things and not torturing characters occasionally. 
> 
> [Clint Barton Bingo Card](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/post/183483152992/im-excited-to-take-part-in-the-clint-barton-bingo)
> 
> [I'm on Tumblr!](https://motherofbeardeddragons.tumblr.com/)


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